


Horror to the Core

by JulianChase



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cannibalism, Creepy, Death, Fiction, Horror, One Shot, Original work - Freeform, Serial Killer, Short Story, Violence, no Ws were harmed in the making of this story.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianChase/pseuds/JulianChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short story, very shot, that I wrote. I wrote it on a whim. It does not have the letter W in it, which was not as easy as I thought it would be.</p><p>Someone is being stalked. He can feel terror radiating inside him. Before he knew it, he was taken. Could he escape? Or was this the end for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horror to the Core

I ran as fast as I could. The stink of the alley rained all around me. My fear resonated off the brick of the buildings, melting into the fears of the others that had no doubt experienced their unique form of terror here. I pushed my legs harder, more determined than ever to escape. But try as I might, they ran faster. In no time at all, they caught up to me. I felt their hands upon my body. I recoiled in disgust, in terror. And again, I thought of the unseen faces of my captors.Their identities remained mysterious to me, their voices muffled and distorted through their nondescript black ski masks.  
And then someone's hand entered my line of vision. His hand held a cloth, and instantly I felt my heart plummet. That cloth meant certain demise for me. I tried to evade him, but despite my best maneuvering, I still found that cursed damp cloth over my nose and mouth. My eyes became heavy and my body slacked from unconsciousness.  
I couldn't tell you the amount of time that passed, but I'm sure it had been at least three or four hours, because as soon as my eyes opened, I could see the light of the sun peeping into my cell. And oh the cell! Just picture any stereotypical dark, damp cell you may have seen in a movie, and that's the place my unfortunate ass currently presided.  
And still, I hadn't a clue as to the reasons those thugs kidnapped me. I'm the type of guy that befriends anyone and everyone. I have literally given the shirt off my back to help a complete stranger once. So it both astounded and baffled me that I sat in this cell, taken by people only the Lord could identify right at this moment.  
Did anyone miss me yet? Could there be a search all ready started to locate me? I hoped so.  
A sound outside the metal door caught my attention. Soon after, I heard the mysterious individual on the other side unlock and open the door. So prepared I had been to see more thugs in black ski masks, that I couldn't help but be floored to see her standing there, a grin that said, "Joke's on you motherfucker" plastered upon her sharp, but beautiful face.  
It may have been many years ago, but I remembered her face like I had seen it just yesterday.  
"You," I gasped. I searched my mind for something clever to say, something that might sting. But nothing presented itself, so I said the only thing I was currently capable of saying. "You."  
"Me," she said, still smiling her motherfucker smile. She cocked her head. "Aren't you just happy to see me!"  
"Principle Goody," he gasped, his face contorted in confusion and perplexity.  
I hadn't seen her since high school. My next, most natural step after I graduated took me on to college to study communications. I had told Principle Goody I loved to take pen to paper, strike the keys of the keyboard so that I could create things people desire and need to read.  
Laughing at the no doubt stupid expression upon my face, she said, "As to the reasons you are here, I collect."  
"Collect?" I stared at her, confusion not easing in the slightest.  
"You excel at your chosen field. I had a part in that, so I desire my trophy."  
"Tro... trophy?"  
"Your brain," she said in a breath. "It is quite the specimen. I have never amounted to something special like you. If I partake of that brain of yours, then maybe it will be possible for me to be like you."  
I could feel my eyes going big and my face fall. Hell no! "No," I screamed, jumping to my feet. I mustn't let her eat my brain! I needed that!  
She smiled.  
I stormed at her, my appetite for survival burning fiercely. This lady reeked of insanity. I felt the trepidation that flourished in my entire being, but I did not let it control me. But just feet from her, I noticed the gun that she pulled from seemingly out of nothingness.  
And she shot at me. At first, I thought it grazed me, because I felt hardly anything at all. But then I glanced down, seeing the dart that protruded from my arm.  
"I can't die," he said, his voice sounding distant. He slumped to his knees. "...Live."  
His dreams, his life goals... his aspirations, he longed for nothing more then to fulfill them. Could he still? It seemed unlikely.  
Principle Goody strutted over to me, taking her time, her hips moving back and forth seductively. Standing next to me, she petted my head, gently stroking my hair. "There, there Peter," she said. "Go to sleep my child."  
And try as I might to fight off the monster of sleep, it overtook me, defeating me. I fell asleep for the last time.


End file.
